


Written in the Sand

by Winterotter



Series: Names in a Tattoo or a Number to Wash Away [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character and relationship tags to be added as they become relevant, Clone Wars happen differently, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Jaster Mereel Lives, Jedi Master Dooku (Star Wars), M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Time Skip, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Temporary Amnesia, but still happen, palpatine going to palpatine, yep both apply
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:07:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29882958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterotter/pseuds/Winterotter
Summary: Jango Fett’s memory has been wiped by an unknown Force-User, and Obi-Wan is the only one around who can help him regain it.Why does he feel a mysterious connection to Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, and what does it have to do with his amnesia?
Relationships: Jango Fett & Jaster Mereel, Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Jaster Mereel
Series: Names in a Tattoo or a Number to Wash Away [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2186511
Comments: 23
Kudos: 129





	Written in the Sand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Written in the Stars, after a 7ish year time skip. In which, Palpatine found a different and less effective way to destabilize the Mandalorians. 
> 
> I’m playing fast and loose with the timeline here, due to events in part 1, the cloning process started later so the clones and Boba are all a bit younger than when they were found in canon.

* * *

Jango paced a circuit around the living room of his apartment. It was less of an apartment, and more a gilded cage. A place he could call his own, but one he couldn’t truly leave. It had been so long he’d stopped wondering what else might be out there.

It wasn’t like he remembered what he’d left behind. If he’d left anything behind. He’d woken up here seven years ago and a squalling babe had been thrust into his arms.

His name was Jango Fett, or so they said, and the baby was his payment for a job. A job, he didn’t remember taking. According to the Kaminoans, he’d consented to this. To being here for the duration of the contract.

He didn’t remember anything though. He had skills, could do all manner of things—some of which spoke of a life he wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to remember—but had no memories of learning them. Of who had taught him. He knew multiple languages, knew on an instinctive level which one was _his_ , but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t remember who he’d learned to speak it from. He had scars and tattoos he didn’t know the stories behind.

One tattoo, on the inside of his left wrist, was an etching of wings, done in green ink. Duty, it meant. Another thing he didn’t know how he knew. The similarity it held to the Jedi Order’s emblem was something he didn’t like to think about. He had other tattoos, but that was the one he found himself staring at the most, something in his chest aching at the sight.

“It’s open,” he responded to the door chime. He didn’t stop his pacing, because odds were it was one of the instructors escorting little Boba back from his lessons early. Lessons he was no longer allowed to supervise. It made his hands itch for a blaster he didn’t have.

To his surprise, Lama Su entered his quarters, a man in jetii robes trailing behind. He was dripping rain all over Jango’s carpet.

“Prime Minister.” Jango frowned. “To what do I owe the visit.”

“This is Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, he’s here to inspect the progress on the army they ordered,” Lama Su said. “He requested to speak with you.”

Kenobi pushed back his hood. “Hello there,” he said.

“I can’t imagine what I can help with. There’s not much I can tell you that the Minister’s team couldn’t. I only helped with some of the Alpha and CC classes, and everything I did was overseen by Nala Se.”

Kenobi frowned and looked disappointed. Or mildly irritated, Jango could only guess and was surprised at how much emotion the jetii was showing. At how much he thought he could read in his expression. “Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Kenobi murmured, then he turned to bow towards Lama Su. “Prime Minister, I’m sure you have more important matters to attend to. I can find my own way back after I’ve talked with Ser Fett.”

For a moment, Jango was sure Lama Su was going to refuse but then, he inclined his head. “Nala Se will drop off Fett the younger in a few hours,” Lama Su said, and his tone was as even as ever. Still, Jango knew what came next was not an offer, but an order. “You may return with her, then.”

Kenobi knew it too, based on the way his shoulders stiffened. “Of course,” he said.

Lama Su surveyed them both one more time before turning and sweeping from the apartment. Jango half expected to hear the lock engage, but it seemed there was still a front to keep up—for the jetii, anyway. He’d been disillusioned the first time they’d taken a batch of toddler clones from his class, never to be returned. Suddenly, he’d been restricted to quarters and found the amount of food he was given halved.

Malnourished and with no weapons or armor to speak of, it had been an effective way to cow him into inaction. That time.

“Well,” Jango said, after they’d stood there long enough for him to realize Kenobi wasn’t going to speak first. “You got me alone, what do you want?”

“Many things, that you can’t provide, I’m afraid. Let’s start with a few questions. Are you still involved with any training?”

Jango gave a snort. “No, not anymore. I made them too independent. Willful. Or so they told me. And I raised hell when they—never mind. It doesn’t matter. I don’t train any of them anymore. Or see them at all.”

“Do you know why you were chosen as the template?”

Jango laughed at that, and he could hear the edge of hysteria in it. Fuck, if he remembered the _why_ of anything in his Force-forsaken life. He didn’t even know where he’d picked up that phrase. He woke up in the middle of the night sometimes, reaching from something that wasn’t there, and all he could think was that he’d been forsaken by every greater power he’d ever believed in.

“I agreed as part of a job,” Jango said. “Or so they tell me. I had a head injury, got amnesia around that time. . . And then I had my ad, Boba, to think of. . .” he trailed off, and Kenobi was just standing there, staring at him. Like he wasn’t even listening, like he was just drinking in the sight of Jango. There was a look on his face Jango had seen before, but it didn’t make sense. Not directed at him.

He’d seen that mix of relieved grief on the faces of clones, when one of their batch-mates returned from a trip to medical. A trip that was more often one-way than not.

It made no sense at all for Kenobi to be looking at _him_ —like that.

Kenobi folded his hands in his sleeves, and his expression closed off. “What kind of amnesia?”

“Retrograde. I have no issues forming new memories. I just don’t remember anything further back than seven or so years ago.”

“I see. There’s something I need to tell you, something I’d like to try,” Kenobi said, “but I don’t know how to explain it so you’ll believe me. I expected to find a lot of things, when I found you, but this wasn’t a situation I considered.”

“This isn’t about the clones.”

“Not originally, though I certainly plan to do something for them now. I came here for you, Jango.”

Jango fell back a step, his back to a wall. But Kenobi didn’t advance, hadn’t moved at all. If anything, he just looked sad.

“I would never hurt you,” Kenobi said. “I suppose I know the answer to this question, but, do you trust me?”

Jango frowned. This was not at all what he’d expected to come of a conversation with a jetii. “I just met you. Of course, I don’t trust you.”

“No, you didn’t. And you do,” he said. “Or more accurately, you used to trust me. There was a time when you trusted me with your life. With the lives of your aliit. I need you to dig deep, try to find some of that trust. Because if you don’t, you won’t believe what I have to tell you. You won’t want to believe any of it, and then, I won’t be able to easily help you.”

Jango met his eyes. He wanted to refuse on principle. But, the thing was, there was an ache in his chest he recognized. His fingers were twitching with the repressed urge to reach out, to smooth away the lines on Kenobi’s forehead. And some part of him, on a level near instinctual, did trust Kenobi. Had relaxed as soon as he entered the apartment.

“Tell me.”

Kenobi was looking at him, expression inscrutable. “We met over a decade ago, your adoptive father is the Mand’alor, you have a family that never gave up searching for you. And someone stole all that from you with a mind wipe,” he said.

Jango blinked at him. He knew that he must have had a life _before_ , but this was pushing into absurd. “Ah,” he said. “ _Oh_ -kay. I think you have me confused with someone else. Surely the son of the Mand’alor would have been searched for and found quickly.”

“We—they tried. Whoever took you covered their tracks well. And then, I don’t know how up on current events you are, but Jaster has been kept busy—deliberately if you ask me—with internal and external threats.”

His heart skipped a beat. _Jaster_.

“Your amnesia was no accident, Jango. There’s no way you would’ve agreed to any of this otherwise, I can’t believe you wouldn’t have found a way off this rock—with everyone you could feasibly take—had you remembered what was waiting for you. Who was counting on you.”

“Stop calling me Jango, whatever my past, I don’t know you now. Why the kriff should I believe anything you tell me.”

Kenobi looked away, his expression twisting. And then, just when Jango thought he was going to give up on convincing him to believe his wild story, he shrugged out of his robe. It hit the floor in a sodden pile. Jango frowned, it would take hours to dry out his carpet at this rate.

“Does this mean anything to you?” Kenobi extended his arm towards him.

Jango swallowed. There was a vambrace sitting there, strapped around his forearm overtop his tunic sleeve. He recognized the unique gleam of unpainted beskar. Except, it wasn’t entirely without paint. Kenobi twisted his arm to display the crest along the side. It was a mythosaur skull, in a shade of red he often caught glimpses of in his dreams.

“I thought so,” Kenobi murmured, apparently seeing something in Jango’s expression. Then, he undid the clasps holding it in place, and shoved up his sleeve. At this point, Jango had gathered enough of his wits to guess what Kenobi was showing him now.

He was right. There, on the inside of Kenobi’s wrist was a tattoo identical to the crest on his vambrace. “Shortly before you went missing, I got captured on a mission. Lost all my belongings, including your vambrace,” he said. “We recovered it eventually, but not before deciding to get something more permanent done.”

“You’re insane,” Jango said. “You expect me to believe we’re married? That tattoo doesn't mean anything. If I were the Mand’alor’s ad, there’s no way our match would have been approved.”

“Who said we got approval?”

“What.”

“Mm. Yes, we moved rather fast. Managed to hide it for about half a year. The party Jaster threw when he found out was a torment that lasted days and is the cautionary tale still told to your aliit to discourage anyone else hiding a marriage.”

Jango winced. “That. . . I don’t. . . How do I know you’re not lying, or, or confusing a vivid vision with reality?”

“A vision, hm?”

“What,” Jango said again.

“How do you know I get visions immersive enough to confuse with reality? That’s not common, even for a Jedi.”

“I. . .” Jango trailed off. He didn’t know why he’d said that, why Kenobi having a vision even occurred to him as a plausible explanation.

“It could be a very lucky guess. Or, it’s something you already know about me. And, Fett, I don’t tell just anybody that.”

For just a second, his vision flickered. For the briefest of moments, his plain apartment was replaced with a dimly lit room. A figure was sprawled on the floor, leaning back against a bed, their forearm covering their eyes. He blinked and he was looking at Kenobi again, his apartment back in focus. Kenobi was still watching him. He tried to come up with something to say. But he couldn't. He couldn't explain why he'd thought of visions, or what he'd just remembered.

Somehow, though, he did know that Kenobi got visions. Bad ones.

"Jango," Kenobi was saying, and he was too off-balance to care that he was back to using his first name. "You didn't lose your memory by accident. You weren't injured. Someone wiped your mind with the Force."

"My mind was wiped with the _Force?_ "

"I believe so, yes. I won't know for sure unless you let me check."

"Check. . . You think I'm going to let you check my mind? This is madness. You're mad. This, this is just. . . too much. I could believe that I have ties to the Mandalorians, I know the language. But my buir being Jaster Mereel? Being married to a kriffing _jetii?_ That's more than pushing believability. It's not possible. I'd never—it's not true. Besides, I've seen absolutely no sign that the Kaminoans can use jetii magics."

"They didn't choose you," Kenobi said softly. "Whoever commissioned the clone troopers did. They delivered you here, mind-wiped, with a contract you supposedly signed."

He leaned back against the wall, his chest tight. There was something he should be saying. Something he should be doing. He should be throwing Kenobi out on his rear and telling him to never come back peddling his lies. And yet. Kenobi was just standing there, completely calm, telling Jango he knew his past. Knew it intimately. As if there was anything credible about him. Any reason at all to believe him. Jango's eyes wandered back to Kenobi's still bare wrist. The sight of that shade of red against pale skin tightened the vise around his chest until he had trouble breathing.

Kenobi stepped closer. Tapped his own temple.

"It would only take a few minutes to check your mind and return any memories," he said. "You wouldn't feel a thing. Completely painless. You'll fall asleep, and when you wake up your memories will be back, as simple as restoring a back-up to any system. I swear on my honor, I will not hurt you. I won't do anything other than remove any blocks hiding your memories."

The vice loosened and the tension in Jango's frame fell away. Why did his guard keep lowering around Kenobi. "Why are you doing this. Why do you care so much?" he asked, through gritted teeth.

"I miss you. And your people need you."

"Right," he said hoarsely. "Because you're my riduur and the True Mandalorians are my people. Right."

"Is there anything I can do to prove it to you? Or to get you to trust me enough to attempt restoring your memories?"

He stared at Kenobi. Who was still keeping his distance, who had made no move to force the issue. He could, Jango knew. Oh, he would put up a fight, and even without a weapon he wasn't defenseless. But he wasn't sure that would be enough. The thing to do, was to stop waiting for Kenobi to strike first and just throw him out. Even a jetii's patience wasn't infinite and at some point Kenobi would lose his.

Except. Except something in Jango _knew_ Kenobi would do no such thing. That he would never so much as brush against Jango's mind without his permission.

And still, Kenobi just stood there. "Please, Jango," he said. "Trust me."

Jango jerked his head in a nod. "There," he said, pointing at his comm station. "If you're telling the truth, you should have a direct line to Mand'alor Mereel. Comm him."

"Alright," he said, and he strode over to the unit, setting the vambrace down on the table next to it. He tapped a comm code in and initiated a call. Jango moved so that he could see the holo when it connected without him being in the frame.

The call connected, and a figure in beskar'gam sans bucket flickered into view. He was the same blue as any hologram, but Jango knew the cape falling from his shoulders would be red and that the man's hair was a dark black with the grey creeping in at the temples. He swallowed.

"Ob'ika," said the Mandalorian. "Are you alright?"

"Elek, yes Jaster, I'm fine." Kenobi said. "Better than fine. I found something."

Kenobi glanced his way, and he knew this was his last chance. His last chance to kick Kenobi out and not have to deal with—with whatever this was. He wanted nothing more than to return to this morning when his lack of memories was a minor irritant compared to his other problems. But he couldn't, and he refused to be a coward.

He stepped up beside Kenobi so that he was in view of the call.

"Jango," Jaster whispered. "Oh, _ner ad'ika._ I had begun to fear. . ."

Jango's gut twisted into knots. He couldn't think of anything to say, didn't know how to soothe the stricken look on Jaster's face. Didn't know why he was so desperate to.

"His memories were stolen," Kenobi said, his voice gentle. "He asked me to call you as a way to prove some of what I told him."

"Oh. I understand. Memories aside, you both are safe where you are? You've gotten him away from who took him?"

There was a moment of silence. Jango shot a look at Kenobi, he had curled one arm around his middle, the other propped on it so that his hand could stroke his beard. "Not exactly. The situation here is somewhat complicated. I can't risk doing anything until I restore Jango's memories. If he allows me to, of course."

Jaster snorted. "He's stubborn, not stupid."

"Hey," Jango said, finding his voice again. "I have no reason to trust either of you. How do I know you're not in on whatever madness this is?"

Jaster arched a brow at him. "Do you remember enough to hold to the resol'nare?"

"I'm an amnesiac, not a dar'manda."

Beside him Kenobi huffed a laugh. The first sign of a sense of humor he'd gotten from him. In fairness, their conversation hadn't been lighthearted, exactly.

"Good," Jaster said firmly. "Then as your Mand'alor, I'm telling you that you can trust Obi-Wan. There's no one I trust more to restore your memories, and if you were in your right mind—you would agree with me."

Jango swallowed, a title that was not _mand'alor_ on the tip of his tongue. Some of it must have shown on his face, because Jaster smiled at him.

"Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad, Jango Fett," he said. "I know you as my child, and you will remember, if you let Ob'ika help you."

"Okay," Jango managed to get out around the lump in his throat. "Okay."

Jaster nodded at him and then turned back to Kenobi. "I want updates."

"You'll have them," Kenobi said. "We should go now, I don't know how much longer I'll have before we're interrupted. Jango's captors aren't keen to leave me unsupervised for long."

"Smart of them. Take care, you two. I hope to see you in person soon, Jan'ika."

Jango jerked a nod just as the call ended and the hologram flickered away.

The screen went back to sleep. Jango staggered over to the couch and collapsed there. He stared at the tattoo on his wrist. He didn't look at Kenobi or speak to him, but he knew he was still there. After several beats of silence, he leaned back and shut his eyes. His head was spinning. Well. That was understandable, he supposed. Anyone's head would be spinning, after the wild ride of a conversation he'd just been through.

_I miss you. And your people need you._

_Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad, Jango Fett_

In his most fanciful moments, in his wildest of daydreams about his missing past, he'd never come up with something like this. His imagination wasn't this expansive. And wasn't his life complicated enough between raising Boba, undermining the Kaminoan's training practices, and trying to do what he could for the troopers? The last thing he needed was a jetii showing up with wild claims about who he was and where his responsibilities lay. He had enough responsibility as it was, thank you very much.

_Then as your Mand'alor, I'm telling you that you can trust Obi-Wan._

Fuck.

He could tell Kenobi _I don't trust you,_ and it would be at least partially true. And it would stop Kenobi, as it should, but he would be twisting Kenobi's sense of honor and using it against him. Manipulating him into believing something that was becoming less true with every passing moment. Out of his own fear. He knew in his bones that if he said _I don't trust you_ , Kenobi would say, _Okay, we'll find another way._

The cooling unit kicked on with a hum. Somewhere outside the rain was taking a turn for the worse. And in another galaxy, in another version of reality, Jango didn’t have any surprise visitors. He finished this day going over homework with Boba. He cooked them dinner, stew maybe, and went to bed. Maybe he fell asleep quickly or maybe it was one of those nights where he lay awake missing a presence he didn't remember. In this other universe, no jetii showed up on his doorstep and trailed in rain and stories that left him with more questions than answers.

But that universe, was not this one.

Jango took a deep breath. "Okay," he said, opening his eyes. "How do we do this."

"You should lay down," Kenobi murmured, coming over to crouch in front of him. "If everything goes well, it'll be like falling asleep."

Jango didn't let himself think about it too much, the room lurching to the left as he shifted to lay on his back.

"It's been a long time. . . even if I do remember everything." He forced himself to tilt his head and meet Kenobi's gaze, peering into his blue-grey eyes. "Even if I remember _you_ , that doesn't mean anything," he said. "It's been years. . . I can't promise you anything."

The barest flickers of something passed over Kenobi's face. "I know," he said. "My feelings for you haven't wavered. But please don't think I have any expectations of you—I don't want you to think I'm doing this because of that. You deserve to remember your past, you deserve to make decisions about your life with all the context. That's all I want for you."

"I believe you." He let his eyes trace Obi-Wan's face. Let them skate to his lips, for just a moment. He wondered what it would be like to kiss him. It was impossible to imagine. Except, some past version of himself hadn't had to imagine it. Had been able to remember touching him, holding him, exchanging vows and armor with him. It was impossible.

"We need to do this soon," Obi-Wan said.

"Yeah, it won't be much longer before Nala Se returns with Boba. You'll be here when I wake up?"

The corner of Obi-Wan's mouth twitched up into a smile, one Jango recognized on some level. "Nothing Nala Se can say or do will suffice to pull me away. I promise. I'll keep an eye on Boba too, don't worry. Now, close your eyes and try to relax."

"Yeah okay," he said, and he let his eyes flutter shut, and felt warm fingers settle against his temple. There was a feeling like easing into warm water, like all of him was floating and loose. It was like a bath. That was it—not a river or the ocean, it was perfectly still, and warm, and safe. A presence brushed up against him, a trickle of cool water twining through his hair and caressing his cheek—and something was supposed to be happening—where was Obi-Wan? He tried to reach back towards that presence, tried to shout for him. But there was only serene water everywhere, all around him.

 _Udesii, my dear,_ a voice whispered in his ear. _Mhi solus tome. . . mhi me'dinui an. . . It'll be alright. Sleep for me, Jango._

And then there was something pulling Jango deeper into the water, but he didn't fight it. Because he recognized it. The blackness came up to swallow him and closed over his head. He slept—and he dreamt.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you think of the intro/beginning!
> 
> Update schedule: my goal is to keep putting up a chapter each weekend. 
> 
> Notes about the world scape: I played around with this being enough of an AU that Jango wasn't the one used as the clone template but ultimately decided that opened a whole can of worms and potentially turns all our favorite clones into OCs, so I ultimately wanted him to be the template, but the only way that fits the character set up in part 1 is well, amnesia. Don't worry, it gets resolved fairly quickly! 
> 
> Dooku hasn't fallen so Palpatine has had to be more hands-on in some areas and more hands-off in others, leading to a different series of events kicking off the separatist movement/clone wars. It'll be explained more in upcoming chapters! 
> 
> Translations/Phrases:
> 
> Jetii - Jedi  
> aliit - family, clan, tribe  
> Mand'alor - "sole ruler", leader of the Mandalorians  
> Kriff - derogatory word - similar to 'fuck'  
> kriffing - dergoatory modifier of above ^  
> beskar - Mandalorian iron  
> ad - child  
> buir - parent  
> riduur - partner, spouse, husband/wife  
> beskar'gam - armor; Literally: "iron skin"  
> 'ika - dimunitve added to a shortened version of a name to denote affection, nickname  
> elek- yes  
> ner ad'ika - affectionate way of saying "my child", "my son/daughter"  
> Resol'nare - The six tenets of Mandalorian culture  
> dar'manda - a state of being "not Mandalorian"; not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and soul  
> Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad - "I know your name as my child"; Mandalorian adoption vow  
> Udesii - "Calm down" or "take it easy"  
> Mhi solus tome... mhi me'dinui an - "We are one when together...we will share all" - portion of Mandalorian marriage vows


End file.
